Jailhouse Musings
by gategirl7
Summary: Dean and Sam's thoughts while they were locked up in Jus in Bello. Spoilers for that episode and rated for language.


Oneshot focusing on Sam and Dean's thoughts while in the cell during _Jus in Bello_. I haven't seen a bunch of fics about this episode surprisingly, but the brothers' time in the cell felt really emotional to me. Warnings for language.

I don't own Supernatural and I'm not making any money off this. Italics are lines of dialogue from the episode.

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The instant Dean had seen those shiny shoes he had known that he and Sam were in deep shit. Henricksen's dogged pursuit of them had made life harder for a while but the drama with Bella stealing the Colt had pushed the FBI agent to the back of their minds. Now they were paying for that distraction. He and Sam were chained together and locked in a tiny cell in some stupid ass small town. Dammit!

As he sat with his brother on the thin mattress and stared through the bars of their cell Dean tried desperately to think of a way out of this seemingly impossible situation. Even if they could get out of the cuffs there was no way to get out of the cell and past a handful of armed men. Not to mention they would have to find the Impala, break into her, and hotwire her. Again. How did this get so screwed up? All Dean wanted to do was live out what could be his last few months with his brother doing what he did best, hunting evil. Not that he didn't trust Sam to try to break the deal, but Dean just didn't know if there was any way to. He was sure Bobby had been working on it and he knew Sam did research when he thought Dean wasn't paying attention. Dean just figured that if there was a way out of the deal, the two best researchers he knew would have found it by now.

He felt Sam shift next to him to recline on an elbow and release a sigh. Dean redoubled his efforts to planning a way out. They had Sam lined up for enough accessories and felonies of his own to lock his younger brother up for a long time and that thought didn't sit well with Dean. He couldn't leave Sam stuck in prison. Sam had to move on when he left, go back to that 'normal' life Dean was sure he still wanted so badly. That's what gave Dean the calm to get over the thoughts of Hell; thoughts of the life Sam could lead without him.

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Sam was beyond frustrated. And, deep down, scared. That they weren't going to make it out of this one and Dean would live out the rest of his year in a prison where Sam couldn't find a way to save him. Scared that even a few months in jail would drive Dean crazy and his brother would welcome the trip to Hell. And terrified that he wouldn't be there with his older brother when…if…it happened. The solid presence of Dean right next to him helped calm him a bit, but the clink of chains anytime his brother shifted and the sight of the world from behind bars kept Sam on edge.

He could see the wheels in Dean's head turning, desperately searching for a way out of here. Sam knew that if there was any way out Dean would probably think of it, so Sam tried to make himself relax a bit. He shifted to lean his head on the wall and concentrated on unclenching. He knew Dean could pick up on his body language and Sam's tension would distract Dean from thinking up a plan.

Just as Sam had relaxed a fraction, footsteps sounded from around the corner and Victor Henricksen walked into the room. Sam stayed laying back but tensed and he felt Dean shift and coil; both were preparing for confrontation.

At first Sam listened to Dean brush off the agent's remarks with his usual snarky comments, shifting his gaze from Henricksen to Dean's back to the wall across the cell area. He stayed quiet and let Dean talk, knowing this was a way for his brother to release some of his tension and clear his mind. Dean always felt better after winning a fight, physical or verbal. But then Henricksen started talking about maximum security and isolation and Sam's gaze went from the FBI agent to his brother's back. He could see the muscles tense as Henricksen described what he had waiting for them.

"_Take a good look at Sam. You two will never see each other again."_

At that, Sam switched to glaring at Victor and sensed Dean doing the same. Wrong move buddy, Sam thought. The best way to motivate his brother was to threaten Sam. Henricksen had no idea what he had unleashed with those two short sentences. And then Henricksen made the second stupidest mistake of his life. He badmouthed their Dad.

"_Truth is your Daddy brainwashed you with all that devil talk and no doubt touched you in the bad place."_

Now Sam was angry and Dean was probably close to lunging at the man and killing him with his bare hands, despite the bars that separated them. And at the moment, Sam wasn't inclined to disagree with that course of action; so he sat up and prepared himself to move with Dean, just in case. But before the tension in the small area could explode, Sam heard the helicopter. Oh shit.

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Dean got up to pace as soon as Henricksen disappeared back into the station. That man was going down! As soon as Dean was free, the agent was a dead man. He knew nothing about the life they led and threatening Sam had been a bad idea. The comments about his Dad had sealed the other man's fate. Dean sent Sam a quick glance and saw his brother poised on the edge of the bed, giving Dean room and chain length to move. Even during his 'talk' with Henricksen, Dean had been aware of his brother's gradual tensing and shift to sit up beside him. The feeling of Sam at his back was probably the only thing that had saved Henricksen from being killed right there with Dean still in cuffs and behind bars.

Before he could pace back and forth more than a couple times, footsteps rang out again. Dean swung around to see who was walking in, expecting it to be Henricksen with his small town back-up to escort them to the chopper. Instead he saw a middle aged white guy come around the corner and stop in front of their cell with a creepy smile on his face.

Dean barely even saw the gun come up before white hot pain exploded in his shoulder and he tumbled backwards.

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Sam reacted almost instantly, still tensed from watching Dean pace and trying not to think about why the helicopter was there. He was a blur of motion as he forced the gun up and away from his brother. He chanced a look at the man and realized with a jolt that his eyes were black. Shit! Sam quickly started reciting the first exorcism that came to mind, the Latin flowing from his mouth as he focused on keeping the gun pointed away from Dean. He heard shots pinging off the wall as they wrestled for control of the gun and hoped Dean was staying down. Before he could finish the prayer, the demon fled, leaving them to try to convince the lawmen that they didn't kill the Deputy Director of the FBI.

Even as he listened to what was he was hearing on Henricksen's radio and out in the parking lot, Sam was worried about his brother. Dean's shoulder had to be killing him and Sam wondered if the bullet had gone through and how bad it was bleeding. As the officers fled back to the main room, he shifted to help Dean up onto the bed so he could examine the wound. Ignoring the older man's protests, Sam crouched in front of Dean trying to look at the hole in his brother's shoulder. Before he could see much, Dean pushed him up and next to him on the bed with an order to 'Leave it'.

Before Sam formed a protest, the lights switched off. Oh, they were so screwed.

----

Dean pressed Sam's handkerchief harder onto his shoulder and groaned a sarcastic reply to his brother's query about how it felt. How did Sam think it felt? But he didn't say more, knowing how worried his little brother was about him and that asking about it was Sam's way of dealing with the fact that he couldn't do anything else to fix the wound without supplies. Trying to take his mind off the pain, Dean looked around and noticed the pretty receptionist half hiding in the doorway to the cell block. His stillness alerted Sam and Dean stepped back to let his brother handle this conversation. He watched and tried to look pathetic and non-threatening as Sam attempted to get a towel from her.

He wasn't that surprised when she came back. Damn puppy dog eyes and soft voice, it worked for Sam every time. However, he was startled when the younger man grabbed her arm and dragged her closer to the bars. What the hell was Sam doing, trying to get them killed? But when his little brother dangled the crucifix from his hand, Dean grinned and thanked God that he had taught Sam how to steal. Finally something was going right for them! Granted, one crucifix and one toilet to put it in wasn't much, but Dean had worked with less.

His grin spread and was echoed by Sam as they moved in tandem toward the toilet in the corner of the cell. Dean listened with one ear as his brother started the blessing, trying to hear anything from beyond the holding area. He needed to know what was going on outside and the high window in their cell wasn't much help. Sam's chanting stopped and they moved without discussion to settle side-by-side on the flimsy cot. Despite the throbbing pain in his shoulder and the fact that they were still locked up, Dean's mood had improved. The wheels in his head were spinning as he cracked jokes to a serious Sam, coming up with and discarding multiple escape scenarios while he waited to learn what was going to happen next.

And then he knew. Victor was possessed. Well, ain't life a bitch? As Dean exploded into action in time with Sam, forcing the agent towards their improvised holy water, his only thought was 'I told you so'.

----

When Victor realized what had just happened he was flabbergasted. Demons were real? Sam and Dean hadn't been lying? How were they supposed to survive this? There were enemies he had no idea of how to fight coming to laying siege to the station, and he had people to protect. He had promised Nancy that he would get her through this before he had realized what 'this' was.

But as he watched the Winchester brothers work he was reassured. These men he had thought were murderers would help them. They knew how to fight demons and secure the building. They had weapons that were untraditional but familiar. And as he hefted a shotgun filled with salt shells, Victor thought they might just make it out of this alright.

Please let me know what you thought! Thanks for reading.


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